The Fake Life of Priya
by If Only Legolas Were Mine
Summary: 40 leagues north of Edoras lies the village of Artanis Lissësúl, there lives a girl whose want to fight is stronger than any man. What happens when a pack of Orcs comes to attack the village and three mysterious warriors come to save them? But why does she know almost nothing about herself? And will the biggest mistake her and Legolas make is fall for eachother? LegolasXOC
1. Priya part 1

**A/N: Hello my fellow Ringers! I'll explain a little more on the story at the END authors note because I want to get you reading but here's some things you need to know: this takes place AFTER The Two Towers/ before The Return Of The King. This chapter is divided into 2 parts (because it's waaayyy too long to be one chapter but it needs to be long because it's essential for the story) so when you reach the end of this chapter there won't be much of an authors note. And lastly...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Lord of The Rings characters BESIDES MY OWN.**

**Read. Review. Favor. _Enjoy._**

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Could use any and all Lotr book/movie experts! Need those to beta this story if you like it! Thanks!

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_Surrounded yet alone, a princess lies_  
_Slowly bracing the fact of her approaching demise_  
_She cries for help and screams from fear_  
_Though she does not dare to shed a single tear_  
_Abruptly from the darkness, a prince shall rise_  
_Though neither know,_  
_that he will be the reason..._  
_for her demise_

"Where are you going again?" Her mother asked from the kitchen as her daughter ran into her room hurriedly.

"Just around the market! Be back in an hour mum! Bye!" She raced into her room and grabbed her 'over the shoulder' light brown bag, then into her parents' bedroom and searched for the item she was looking for. She threw open their cupboard (that she was NOT supposed to go through) and glared at the shining sword her dad had placed there and his other prideful weaponry, but instead grabbed something else and headed out the door. She quickly raised the hood of her brown cloak up then ran behind her home and jumped on "her" horse, throwing her bag to her side. She wasn't going to the market; she was going to a place that was much more fascinating.  
She rode off through the shining sun of high noon, right on the outskirts of the village into the forest, where "the camp" was. She rode for about 10 minutes, the forest was not too far, but it wasn't close enough.  
She kept a safe distance from them behind the bushes and trees to watch, watch and practice. The other men's horses were on the other side of the ground, opposite to where she was; she looked over at the area where there were no trees in a patch of ground and where the men stood. She tied her horse to the tree and realized the lesson had already begun, she was late. The men swiftly moved their swords left and right practicing different battle techniques, she quickly pulled her sharpened wooden sword that she had taken from her parents' cupboard and did the same.

This was a men only sword and fighting technique camp for her village, which is why she was practicing by herself from afar. (The ground they practiced on was a league northeast of their village, it was a small forest that the Snowbourn stream ran through, the stream was also about half a league east from their village.) The leader would teach them new moves, or show them battle techniques, or they would just spar, the class was held twice a week maybe Monday and Thursday; and if they were lucky, Saturday too. If anyone found out she was fighting like the men she would be shamed and laughed at by everyone actually she was always being laughed at... But fighting was amazing, fantastic! "I mean what's the point of life if you die squealing? No! Everyone should be able to put up a fight!" she thought. None of the women of her village could fight, or wanted to fight, or even enjoyed fighting like she did. Why? Why did women CHOOSE to be weak? She wasn't like them, she was different, she wanted to be able to defend herself and others, she wanted to be strong.

As the men sliced their swords around, she copied, making sure she perfected every move. As an early 10 year old she would run off to watch the swordsmen, to see them practice fighting. There were only about 65 men and growing boys who practiced from the small village everyday; men and boys were forced to learn. No, she didn't have a real purpose for learning all this, not that she would use it one day, but she enjoyed it.

After about 45 minutes, a young man nodded at her, as a signal, though she did not see it. He did so again and again but still her eyes missed his gesture; after about 7 times she'd finally caught it. She nodded back thankfully and jumped back on her horse knowing that the men would be dismissed soon and if she was caught, it would be the end of her. She quickly rode back into her village, remembering to stop by the market and get something so her mother wouldn't become suspicious.  
She tied the horse to a pole behind her home and entered through the door.

"Here you go mum," she tossed the bag near the small pot where the stew was cooking. She hid her brown sash by her side and made quick paces towards her room.

"Ah ah ah! Not so fast Priya!" Her mother chuckled, "come over here!"

She smiled and sighed, dropping her feet one after another approaching the small kitchen.  
Her mother was just about 70, and her father was 76. No, if you saw them you wouldn't think they were at such an age, they kept themselves very fit; you would see them and think they were barely 50! Her mother and father were Caucasian in skin and both had (now fading) brown hair. Priya had rich black hair, and brown colored skin with bright hazel eyes. She was not their child, though; they raised her like their own. Her mother and father had had a kid before but he soon died because of an illness and they had thought they had been cursed with such a misfortune. They had become too depressed to even consider having another child when Priya, a small child wrapped in a blanket in the nearby forest, was found; they raised her in Artanis Lissësúl, the village they lived in.

"You were out training again weren't you?" Her mother stroked her long, thick braid that stretched to the end of her spine as Priya knelt down.

"Shh mum! Dad will be here any second!" She placed a finger over her lips.

"Ohh!" Her mother mouthed in realization, "as long as you never use that sword!" she made stubborn face, "Go quickly and put it away!" she shooed her.  
Priya quickly placed the wooden sword back in its cupboard and threw her bag under her bed before returning to the living room to see her father enter through the doorway. Their house was fairly small, the right of the entrance was the living/meal room with 3 small chairs and a table, the left was the kitchen and in between the wall of the two rooms was a hallway that split 2 ways; one to her parents' bedroom and one to hers.

Her father walked in, stiff and as soldier like as ever, "you should've been there today!" He looked over to his wife, "the boys were fighting excellently today! Waving their swords as swiftly as the wind and fighting like true warriors!"

Her dad was the leader, he TAUGHT the men and boys all the sword, battle, and bow and arrow techniques, he was the teacher at the ground.

Priya opened her mouth to speak and smirked, before she could ask if she _could_ have come, her father saw as she was about to make a witty remark.

"I was only speaking figuratively," he deadpanned.

"Go get freshened for dinner," her mother gestured him into their bedroom where a small washroom was located.

Priya watched as her father walked to the room, he was eying her deeply. She had always asked if she could fight and practice with the men but he had always refused to let her, he was always so strict. Priya grew up in a house where the rules were so strict and against what she desired, what else could she do but rebel? But nonetheless, there was a reason he was always so orderly and directing:  
Artanis Lissësúl, near the stream of Snowbourn, was the village they lived in, in another language, it meant "new start," for that is what the small village was built upon. This village was a refuge for outcasted criminals, mainly if they had done something wrong and regretted it but were shunned out of society, so they came here to start a new life; a new start. If you were to come to this village, you wouldn't be able to tell these people were once fugitives, for they are now kind people who desire the life they cannot achieve due to their actions; not her father though.

Her father was once a man living in Edoras, but was wrongly accused of a murder. From what he had told her...  
He was a Rohanian soldier living in the city he was stationed in: Edoras, he was also great friends with the fleets' commander, Amay. They were always smiling off duty, looking out for eachother, but Amay was still in the higher position that him, other soldiers would say he was just doing that to get on Amay's good side; which was completely false. Her father was buying food one night, off duty, when he saw these men beating up a man in a dark alley and stepped in to try to stop them; even if he was not in uniform he had to protect the citizens of the city. He shouted for help from nearby guards, but he didn't know that that man they were beating was already near dead, those people had beaten him badly. He caught a glimpse of the man who seemed to be in charge of the other three, his name was Dranor, a simple man of Rohan; but why was he beating up this other man? Dranor was constantly yelling at the man he was beating, calling him nasty names and saying foul words about him. Her father was a soldier and a defender of Rohan but that night he had come unarmed, so when Dranor and the others attacked _him_ for shouting for help, he was very much caught off guard. They beat her dad brutally, and though he was a skilled fighter, he could not hold off four men at once, two of which had blades. The three men and Dranor heard the guards approaching and scurried from the alley, leaving her father there with the dead man; he was too weak to move, he had blood dripping from all over him and bruises everywhere. By the time the guards had arrived, they were shocked to see Andúnë, her father, and Amay, the chief of the guards and soldiers in the city, to be so bloody. The guards took both to immediate care but Amay had already died, and when 30 year old Andúnë regained consciousness, they were treating his injuries but told him the next day he would have to pack his things because he would be banished for murder. He was shocked and confused but with no evidence besides the fact that he was there, it looked as if Andúnë had done it; he was not even allowed to justify himself, immediate banishment; all the soldiers laughed as he left, they say they saw this coming. So the next day he packed his things and told the woman he loved dearly (which was now Priya's mother, Meera) he had to leave. She asked why and when he explained, she felt so bad and was so in love, she packed her things and left with him, never to see her family again either. The reason Dranor was beating Amay that night is because Dranor was very much in love with Amay's wife, Tara, but she loved Amay and they already had a kid, she love Amay and only Amay; that was why Dranor and his men killed him.  
Andúnë and Meera seeked refuge in Gondor but news traveled quickly within the messengers between kingdoms, and when they had arrived in Gondor, almost everyone looked at Andúnë with disgust and fear; "the man who had killed out if jealousy" they called him. No one would offer them jobs or a place to stay, killing a commander was the biggest sin a soldier could commit.  
He couldn't even be on trial because he was already banished, there was a feeling of hopelessness, there was nothing left for them; so they continued traveling.  
One day, just by the stream of Snowbourn, 40 leagues north of the city Edoras, they spotted a village. Small, but livable, less than half a league south of the stream there was a forest, and beyond Edoras, the White Mountains were clearly visible. They talked to the head of the village, Aegnor or Milkha, to ask what this settlement of seventeen small houses was. Aegnor asked them to tell him the reason they had come and when they explained, he told them that this was the perfect place for them; all who lived in this village were once felons who wanted a new life. They built their own house soon and settled in with the village folk, they had their child two years later but he died at a very early age. They were afraid they had slipped up or given him an illness and that was the reason for their son's death, they thought it too risky to have another child. Then, a few months later, when the two were taking a walk in the forest at night, they saw a baby wrapped in torn cloth crying; they shouted for the parents but there was no response. They took the baby home and raised the little girl by the name of Priya, her father swore he would never let anything happen to this child of his; he would shelter and protect like a diamond.

"What are you wearing!?" Her father asked as he came back from the washroom. Priya wore a white tunic with a murky green vest and brown pants with her hair braided back.

"Must I always wear a dress father?" Priya whined.

"You are a woman!" he flared his nostrils and widened his eyes; "you must dress, speak, and act like one! Now go change!" He commanded. She hung her head low and came back quickly wearing a half sleeved, ankle-length, light red dress.

"Yes, now we may start dinner," he seated himself in a chair, followed by Meera who was bringing two hot bowls of stew to the table, then went back to the kitchen to get another bowl for Priya.

Dinner was going smoother than most days, they ate, talked, they even laughed a little. Priya was having a nice time seeing her parents like this, she hadn't even thought over what she was about to say and how it would kill this happy atmosphere, "Dresses are not the deciding factor whether women are feminine or not father," she slipped nonchalantly then ate a spoonful of stew.

He narrowed his eyes at his daughter, "I am your father I will tell you what is right and what is wrong!"

"Now Andúnë," her mother placed a hand on his wrist as if to calm him down.

"But because we are women does not mean we are not human! We possess the same strength men do! Then why do you hide us in cages just to cook and clean!? Father I am 23! I can do so much more!" Priya looked into her father's eyes with a fiery gaze. She blinked; realizing she had jinxed the fact there had been no argument at the dinner table today.

"Women do not possess any of the strength a man does!" her father scoffed.

"No, Andúnë your statement is incorrect! It is not at all easy doing the work we do!" Meera said back to him.

"And you think our works is!?" he countered.

Priya winced as they barked back and forth at eachother with the fight she had started. She glanced outside the window, the sun had just fallen and it was time for her other class. Silently, she stood up and lightly stepped to her room. She grabbed her bag and put it on, taking her cloak out of it, quickly putting it on over her dress and bag, and flipped her hood on, stealthily heading out the door; her parents were too heated in their argument to acknowledge her disappearance.

She kept her head down as she walked to the other side of the village, passing 30 or so houses on the way there. When she reached the home she was looking for, she gave a soft 3 beat knock on the door; an old man opened the door and she swiftly entered.

"Hello Priya!" he greeted her and sat her down on the couch near the fireplace, "long day?" he asked seeing her anxiety filled expression.

"Eh well," she smiled and looked to the man, flashing a nervous smile. "Now Milkha- I mean Master Aegnor, (she corrected herself) what will you teach me today? Will we revise words or practice songs?"

Yes, Aegnor was the founder of this village, he too was a criminal... or at least he called himself a murderer... About 70 years back, Aegnor was best friends with a small she-elf child. They were both children, he was man and his friend was an elf of Rivendell; Aegnor was an orphan, lost in the woods, left there by his unknown parents. One day a small elf came running along in the forest and when they met, they were instant friends. Aegnor only spoke English from hearsay of his lonely travels and had long listened to the Elvish tongue, eager to speak it one day. The elf, who was only about seven, taught the boy Elvish, they met everyday in the woods to learn, she snuck him food and they played with eachother. Not only did she teach him the language, she taught him their ways and customs, what they looked and dressed like, many beautiful songs for multiple occasions and almost everything there was to know about elves. Alas, she taught him all but how to write the beautiful language, for they would always get carried away after a few letters and began playing or singing.

"My name is Milkha," the little 7 year-old boy said.

"My name is Elwë! And I shall call you by your name in Elvish my friend! Aegnor!" The she-Elf beamed. Elwës' mother had never said anything bad about the men of middle earth, but she had never said anything good either, which was why she was afraid that if she told anyone about Milkha, the other elves would tear them apart, and she couldn't, no, she wouldn't let that happen for any of the years to come. Aegnor began to grow into his teenage body and the elf remained a small child, but their minds were still as kind as ever. The Elf never thought of telling anyone about her secret friend in the forest for all these years, she couldn't risk it. One day the two went swimming in the river of Loudwater, they were having a marvelous time, splashing and swimming, until Elwë decided to dive into the river, for the current was not fast at all. She jumped in head first but was unaware of the mud that was at the floor of the river; her head was stuck. Aegnor waited for Elwë to resurface but when she did not, Aegnor became worried, he headed into the water to see Elwës' limp body upside down waving slowly side to side. He pulled Elwë to the surface but by that time it was too late, the elf was dead. Aegnor did not know how to react, where to go? What to do? Who to tell!? He cried and held her dead body close to his for hours until his emotions changed from sad to fear, and fear to pain, and that pain to worry... So he ran, leaving his poor friend there on the grass, and the heavy burden of watching his friend's death. He was only 17 but he was so confused and devastated, so many "what if I would have..." scenarios constantly bugging his mind. He tried but couldn't live with other Men of Gondor or Rohan who had clean lives for he felt like an outsider among them with red on his slate that could never be removed. So he built a small house by the stream of Snowbourn, to live alone on Lembas bread he had saved for months. Slowly others who were outcasted due to crimes joined his area, bringing crop, cattle, horses and their last belongings; and it slowly became a village. He used the Elvish he knew to name the Artanis Lissësúl, Elvish for "new start" because that was what he, and all the others here, needed.

"Today I'm going to refresh you with some general commands and phrases, I know it sounds easy because you've already learned them but it has been a while since we spoke with simplicity. Now did you construct another sentence in Elvish like I told you to yesterday?" Aegnor asked; she had been a natural at Elvish since she was a child and had always taken interest in the language so when she asked him to formally teach it to her at the age of 9; he couldn't help but be delighted. Though her parents were against her learning Elvish, Priya always found a way to slip a class with him in at least three times a week, she was always rebelling, but this was not just wanting to do what her parents told her not to, it was out of genuine interest.

"Yes I have sir," Priya cleared her throat and closed her eyes, "Lle naa belegohtar, amin sinta thaliolle e dagor, Cuamin linduva yassen megrille Lye nuquernuva sen e dagor!" {You are a mighty warrior and I know your strength in battle, and now my bow shall sing with your sword! We will defeat them in battle!}

"Good! Very good Priya! That sounded like a fantastic battle cry!" Aegnor complimented her.

"I doubt I would ever get to use it..." she muttered under her breath harshly, remembering her father's remarks earlier that day.  
"Now let us begin our lesson, 'Ta nae amin saesa' what does that mean? If saesa means pleasure, figure out the rest of the sentence." Aegnor commanded.

"Amin... and..." Priya trailed off in thought, "Ta nae amin saesa means 'it was my pleasure! Now can we do more difficult sentences? I wish to know more intricate words!" She whined impatiently.

"If that is what you wish," he smiled.

And he spent an hour teaching her few words, mainly quizzing and attempting Elvish conversation because Priya had picked up the language easily and could speak it almost fluently.

Priya looked outside the window for a second and saw the stars beginning to grow brighter and the sky darker, "Amin gorgamin mellonamin tanya sina nae n'quel" {I fear my friend that this is not good}

"What? Why would you say so?" Aegnor was shocked.

"No, you teaching me Elvish is spectacular, but I must go, I left my parents to tame a fire I had ignited, I hope they are alright but I must go now to be sure. I am sorry to leave you suddenly-"

"No please! We've done enough today!" he smiled kindly, "Go now or you will be in trouble! Tenna' tul're!" {Until tomorrow!}

"Tenna' tul're!" she smiled and then caught his gaze, "and you still haven't been able to find what MY name is in Elvish have you?" She sighed as she stood up and put her cloak back on.

"Alas my child no, though I have tried, the elves have their own way of composing names, for names are unique to everyone and I do not possess the intellect to decipher it. Only if your name was written in Elvish or translated by one of the Elves themselves would you ever be able to find it; I am once again, so sorry child," his gaze dropped and he seemed truly disappointed with himself.

"Your name is in Elvish, is it not sir Aegnor? It is Elvish for Milkha yes?" He nodded in response, "then I suppose that is the closest I will get to hearing an Elven name! Goodbye sir! I hope we will practice more in the coming days!" and she left with her hood up, hoping not to be caught by the village folk; oh how they spread terrible rumors about eachother... especially her. She walked with her head low, trying to avoid eyes, when she looked down at her hand and pushed the sleeve up to her elbow, many discoloration patches began appearing, she would have to apply more of the herbs soon.

She paced to her home, hoping the fight had ended. She opened the door and the hinges squeaked slightly, all was dark except a small candle next to where her mother was sitting in the living room with a mug in her hands.

"He... hello mother..." her voice was shaky as she stepped in, hoping she wasn't mad. She quickly undid the thin rope that held her cloak together around her neck and shoved the cloth into her bag.

"Hello sweetie," her mother sipped her tea calmly as if she had never left.

"Is father mad at either of us?" Priya asked softly as she close the door and came to her mothers' side, "you know I am sorry for what I had said-"

"Ah let it be my child, he is growing old and remembering the old customs. He has gone to bed and will forget it all by morning, do not worry Priya," her mother set her cup down and hugged her daughter, arguments like these would arise almost every other day lately with her parents coming of age, she couldn't tell when one of these fights would really offend her father and make him extremely angry.  
"Now what were you doing so late? Not working in our garden were you? No I didn't think so..." her mother scoffed, "You weren't out learning Elvish with that man again were you!?" her mother raised her voice and asked angrily, "You know I have forbidden you from ever speaking the foul tongue!"

"No no mother! Nothing of that sort!" She lied, "just walking about and talking with some friends, that is all!" She rubbed her arm with her hand nervously.

Her mother's eyes dropped to her hands and her tone was quiet again, "Let me see your hands," her mother asked suspiciously at her action, so she put them out in front of her.  
"It is returning," She sighed, "you must take a bath immediately and reapply the herbal soap!" Her mother said staring at she small Caucasian colored patches on her arms that stood out on her slightly brown-tan skin.  
"I am going to bed now but I will not allow you to sleep before taking a bath, understood?" Her mother asked firmly.  
"Yes mum," Priya sighed. Her mother then stood up and kissed her forehead, "now what are the three things I told you to always remember?" She questioned as she turned to face her daughter.

"Always take care of your disease, never fight in battle, and never walk among the elves..." Priya groaned, she understood the first thing but very much desired the other two.  
"No matter what you do, never EVER go near the elves... terrible creatures they are! And as long as your father and I are alive, don't you even look at the elves! All they will do is swallow the hearts of us mortals, then sail away and never look back! With no regret, or pain, they will leave you if you fall for them. Never speak, interact nor love them, for loving them will be your greatest sin and the end of us!" Her mother reminded her and let Priya have a few moments to take in the information she had been feeding her since she was a child. "Goodnight darling," she huffed after her statement,  
"Tomorrow you must awake early, the nursing school starts after sunrise!" She said as she walked away towards her bedroom, leaving her empty cup on the table.

Priya left to her room, still aggravated by her mother's words, to grab a towel, her herbal hair and skin paste. She had a disease where her skin would peel and this lighter layer of skin underneath would show, and since that wasn't her skin, if she went out into the sun with those light patches, they would burn from the heat her mother had told her. Same for her hair, it would begin to fade from black to a brownish color every four or five days and she would have to reapply the paste her mother had made all over her body then bathe. Neither she or her mother would even take the risk of letting her go out into the sun, luckily she never had to if her patches were there, her parents protected her well.

She grabbed her things and put them in her bag then headed to the stream Snowbourn, not too far from her house, less than half a league, but it wouldn't matter; no one would be there this late at night. She took with her one of the smallest glass bottles of the paste, she didn't need too much of it.  
After about 10 minutes of walking in her dark cloak, she approached the vacant, slow and steady stream.  
She listened to the quiet pitter of the water lightly lapping against the rocks on the edges of the stream and the sound of insects rustling and humming above in the trees now that the moon had risen nicely.  
To cover herself or block others vision, she strung a sheet between the two trees she'd be bathing behind, she quickly undressed and got into the chilled water with the glass bottle in hand.

After rinsing her body, applying the brownish paste, letting it sit on her hair and skin, then washing it off, she put her clothes back on and let her wet hair soak the back of her red dress, no longer feeling the need to wear her cloak on top. She threw her cloak and the other things she had brought with her into her bag and tossed over her shoulder and began walking home, but as she approached the village she felt something hit her leg; what was it... a rock? She picked up the pebble that had just been thrown at her leg, by the way it had fallen and using her peripheral vision, she could tell where the rock had been thrown from; behind a tree and the one who had thrown it was covered by the trees' shadow. She grabbed it and sent it lightning fast through the air, to the direction it had come from with full force.

"Owww!" she heard an unmistakably familiar voice. She smiled as she walked over to the darkness behind a tree the shooter was hiding in.

"Rúmil? If you wanted my attention you could've just said my name," she chuckled and walked over to her friend.

"It's late! I don't want people getting the wrong intention by me shouting for you at night!"

"Oh shut it!" Priya punched him in the arm. Rúmil was Priya's best friend who was the same age as her, he was two inches taller than her, with messy brown hair and very light Caucasian skin, he usually wore some black pants with a faded white tunic and his belt around his waist {and his silly Irish accent}; he was also a fantastic fighter. His father was a blacksmith who, at a young age, poisoned his own brother due to jealousy. She had talked to him a few times, he was a completely changed person now and deeply regretted what he had done; but regret was useless. Still, his son was wonderful though his mother had died as soon as he was born, Rúmil never showed any sadness, he was strong and brave.

"Hey let's go over here so we don't disturb anyone," he took her hand and led her to the sword practicing ground in the forest.

"You know, you would've been dead by now if it wasn't for me constantly gesturing at you during lessons today," he chuckled as he leaned against a tree coolly and she leaned on one in front of him.

"Oh ya, thanks for that, but I would've been able to fend them off! I'm a one woman army!" she smirked and folded her arms.

"Speaking of army, have you heard the talk that's been brewing from the city folk? Heard there's a real bad war brewing around, with that ol' tale of the ring, turns out it's true ya' know! The story our grandparents would tell us about king Isildur and his heir? People are sayin' it's all real, that the dark lord is risin' fast, that he's gonna try 'n take over Middle Earth!" He widened his eyes with each sentence he spoke. He loved talking to Priya at this hour, or any hour. She was sweet, smart, calm and a fantastic listener too all he had to say; he also very much supported her wanting to fight and would let her borrow his horse to get to the ground and would tell her when he thought class was coming to an end so she wouldn't be caught.

"Aw, what's all this rubbish!?" she rolled her eyes, "the story of the 'one ring' is an old legend, a thing of the past Rúmil! Wars are fought over land and power, not pieces of jewelry and magical power!"

"Are you saying you don't believe in magic?" He scoffed.

"No! Of course magic exists! The elves have so many beautiful spells! You know I even know one that will help me in my nursing class, a fantastic healing spell!" Priya boasted. A woman who used to work at a Healing House in Gondor was teaching her and a few other girls in that class everyday. She would teach different medicinal remedies, how to heal battle wounds, injuries, and what medicine to give or apply and where, and no matter how much Priya didn't want to, her mother made her begin learning from that woman a few months ago, in case something were to turn up, Priya should be able to heal. She took her Elvish skills and used them in her class, it was more fun and challenging that way; she was actually becoming a fairly skilled nurse. Sure she was able to treat them normally, but using Elvish spells on wounds made her look smarter, which she undoubtedly was, but it also let her practice them for a time when she might need them. Priya didn't care now, she had her own fun with nursing, and after long hours of jumbling with words, she'd even created some Elven spells to heal some wound instantly; magic did exist!  
"And war!? Oh how I wish to be a part of it! If war were to come I do not wish to heal the wounded, but instead to fight in battle with fellow soldiers! Feel the rage of my enemies, and their blood dripping from my sword in victory!"

"That was rather violent," he slipped a nervous chuckle, "but do you not know? Many warriors die in battle!"

"So? There, they die quickly in the name of the king; here I die slowly in the name of my father! How must I carry on like this!? What is the purpose of me living in such a manner where no one cares for me!?" she yelled and looked him in the eyes.

He looked away immediately, sad and scared; for she did not know her words spoke lies. _She did not know how much HE cared for her, how much HE enjoyed her company and her skills and her beautiful strong heart. _His gaze was disturbed and she noticed, "What is wrong...? Have I said something to offend you?" she spoke softly in her sweet tone he craved to hear.

"No," he cleared his throat, "nothing, everything is alright... but you know that if war were to come... I am the finest warrior in the village?" He smirked challengingly.

"Of course..." she stepped closer to him, "everyone knows that..." she came closer to him, now there faces mere inches apart.

Rúmil was taken slightly aback by her movement but continued speaking, "Even you couldn't beat me!" he jumped away with his hand positioned in the air as if holding a sword. He looked down at his belt, then back at his hand, where was his sword?

"Can't fight without a weapon can ya'?" Priya swung the sword through her fingers swiftly, she then jumped at him with the sword pointing for his face, "kneel!" She joked.

"Alright! I surrender!" He bent onto his knees with his hands behind his neck, "You are the best fighter in Artanis Lissësúl! Now give me my sword back!" He stood up and grabbed at it.

"Ah, no," she smiled playfully. She saw his arms come towards his sword and quickly turned backwards and brought her leg up to kick him. Without hitting his face, she startled him and he fell backwards onto his hands and laughed.

"Priya you are amazing! We don't learn moves like this from your father; you must teach me these fighting techniques some day!" He held his hand up and she grabbed it and brought him to his feet.

"These are moves I created ON MY OWN! That's why he doesn't teach you them, I take what I learn and modify the steps to my difficulty. But for you I would surely teach a thing or two," she chuckled, handing him his sword back, "I saw your eyes fall to your sword earlier, that's how I knew what you were going to do..." she placed her hand on her hip.

"Impressive... I bow down to you Priya daughter of Andúnë!" He sheathed his sword and began bowing on his knees.

"Oh stop it!" She shoved him lightly and laughed.

"I know I know, your father has never let you hold a real sword, you've had to deal with those wooden ones I carved for you. That's why you wanted my sword right?" He saw as she shifted uncomfortably at his question. Rúmil then gave her a light hug as she leaned onto a tree, "sorry," he whispered into her ear.  
He leaned on the tree in front of her once again and stared at Priya and how beautiful she looked in the moonlight. Alas, he sighed, she would never see them as more than friends, though he very much desired to be so much more; so much closer in her heart. Her dark hair and skin were setbacks to many, but he found them impeccable compared to any fair skinned woman.  
"But now it is late and I must be going, you too Rúmil. We will talk more tomorrow my friend," she hadn't seen him staring; instead she was looking at the moon and the sparkling stars. She loved gazing at the stars, they were beautiful things with so many untold secrets and stories, she loved the way they twinkled at night.  
She shook him from his thoughts and he nodded, they set off towards the village. As they reached the house where they split, she gave him another hug, "I will see you tomorrow my friend," she whispered before leaving.

He saw her tall figure in her red dress walk off, he closed his eyes and could still feel her warm presence caress his body. He walked home slowly, swooned.

Priya tossed and turned under her covers, a restless night was nothing new to her, she could hardly ever sleep. It had been about an hour since she had crept into her bed and yet sleep had not been given to her. She stared outside the window by her bed, once again marveling at the beauty of the glimmering stars in the night, thinking about what was beyond the borders of her village which she was never allowed to cross. She thought of kings, soldiers, lavish food, castles, different creatures, dwarves, men, and oh... Oh she smiled insanely at the thought of Elves. Oh their grace, how she longed to be in their presence, once, at least once! Aegnor had taught her songs in Elvish, as well as drawn countless pictures of them, and their peaceful ways were so delightful, though she longed to learn the unique calligraphy, Aegnor had not been taught it so she settled for many other enchanting Elven ways. He had told her so many stories of them, but she had not had one encounter with the creatures; she furrowed her eyebrows in anger. She closed her eyes and pictured an Elf, his delicate and slender figure, his amber, flaming hair and poised posture, ah, one day she had to meet them... she would long for the day when she could meet them. Finally, with beautiful thoughts, she was blessed with the gift of sleep at last.

* * *

**A/N: The next part is already up... :3**


	2. Priya part 2

**.:Part 2:.**

Priya awoke the next morning at dawn, through her window she could see the pink sky as the sun was just peeking over the plains in the distance, giving the grass and trees an orange glow. The birds in up above were singing and chattering away in the early morning light as Priya quickly changed back into a comfortable tunic and dark green pants, poorly braiding her hair, and started out of her room towards the kitchen. Before her parents woke up, she had to begin her daily duties as the daughter of the household. She grabbed the biggest pot in the kitchen which held the day's water, she had filled this pot yesterday and just set the remains to boil in a smaller vessel, now that the bigger pot was empty.  
She took the pot in her hand and headed out the door towards the stream to fill up today's water. This was the typical job of the woman or lady of the house, though she was not so typical; all the other women or daughters would go out to get water from the stream after the Sun had risen. They gossiped and discussed all these pointless things, Priya hated all this useless backstabbing, so she'd rather walk and get water before any of the other ladies did; embarking the nature around her, and giving her time to think in the morning was something she very much needed everyday.

As she walked, she breathed in the sweet smells of bread baking in the bakery of the village. The village maintained itself without money, they grew all their vegetables and crop in one common garden and had one bakery one blacksmith and pottery maker. They also had 3 cows and 4 pigs (which they would only cook once a year with a feast they shared... that wasn't so much a feast) though everyone had brought at least one of their own horses for the men to use to ride out to the forest.  
She glared past the (for reasons she did not know) almost abandoned city of Edoras which looked merely like a speck to her, then to the White Mountains, and beyond that she thought of where the Men lived. Sure there were Men and people in her village but she had the urge to believe as if the Men who lived in the bigger cities were... different than the ones that resided here. Her heart craved to meet new people and creatures, to see new faces and meet different personalities; she knew almost everything about everyone in this village because she had known everyone since she was a child. The most recent 'new' face was a mother of 2 young boys who killed her husband... 3 years ago; she knew them well too. She thought for a second, were all the people out there as cruel as the ones who banished her father? No... Yes... maybe? She could never be sure. Were the Men in cities like Gondor or ones in Rohan always unjust to everyone, or were there really kind people out there? She hated the fact she couldn't get answers to her questions when she wanted them. She heaved, rolling her eyes at being trapped in Artanis Lissësúl, it wasn't bad, but she wanted to do more in her life.

After reaching Snowbourn, filling up the water twice, (the first time the pot had clumsily slipped from her hands back into the stream so she had to refill it) she sat under the dark green oak tree by the water, exhausted. She leaned her back against the thick, earthy feeling trunk, marveling at the small leaves and the way they swayed ever so slightly.  
She shook her head vigorously, she had work to do at home, vegetables to cut and things to clean, then the medical class after. Priya stood back up, tilting slightly at the weight of the water on one side of her; after she balanced herself she began walking back to the village.

She took careful steps, not wanting to tumble as she came closer to the small houses. Priya saw the gang of women and older girls leaving with pots in their hand, sneering at her, but she paid no attention as she crossed them; she continued nonchalantly on her way back home.

"There's that rowdy girl Priya!" One mother whispered to the others.

"Yes, the daughter of the one who killed Amay! Strange she is!" Another lady rolled her eyes, "she's lived here all her life. I've had dinner with her family once, her parents are decent people but she doesn't talk to many girls, always acting like she's one of them boys!"

"She might as well be! Dressing in pants and belts instead of dresses and skirts?! Absurd!'

"Ya' know, I hear she has a sword," the women gasped as they continued walking," I' Hear she's been fighting like one'ov our boys! My son told me he thought he saw a woman practicing with 'em the other day! She'll ruin her family's reputation doin' that ya know!'

"Reputation's all they got left considering she's got no beauty to carry on!" Which was in fact, false, for she looked even more beautiful than most of _their _daughters, though they always found one setback to her, "Have you seen her skin?! Dark as dirt!" a woman sneered.

"And her _hair!?_" one lady, a year younger than Priya said, "Black as the night sky. She doesn't have light skin and blond and brown hair like us!" she scoffed, "I wouldn't be surprised if she never found love, no man's going to marry a girl who blends in with the ground!"

"Ya' know, I hear she has that _disease... _The one where if her skin turns pale and her hair turns brown then she has to apply some medicine on her! There are 1 in a hundred _thousand _who get this in Middle Earth and most of 'em die by the age of 30 'cause they can't keep up with it! It's a shame though, she's a nice laddie..." a mother sighed.

The others muttered in agreement, Priya had always been lively and bubbly, never had she done anything to upset anyone or given anyone a reason to dislike her; they couldn't disagree to the fact that she was a sweet young woman.

* * *

Priya swept the kitchen and with one forceful sweep, she shoved the trash and dirt out of the door. Her father had just headed out to till the small amount of community crop they had on the other side of the village and her mother left to the market to pick some of the best vegetables for today's meals.  
She fell into a chair, exhausted after washing all the dishes and clothes, sweeping everywhere and making all the beds.  
No one was home now... maybe she had time to practice a bit of sword fighting? Sure she couldn't practice her archery, she didn't have her own bow, most of the time Rúmil would bring his bow and they'd practice at night, soon she'd taken a real liking to the bow and arrow, though she was just as good with a sword.  
Her desire got the best of her as she slipped into her parent's room. She closed the windows in their room and slowly opened the doors of their cupboard, the cupboard she was not supposed to touch but did anyways, and she had been doing so almost all her life. Small shelves for clothes were at the bottom, but at the top was just one shelf which held her father's weaponry.  
She envied the sword pair that hung in the back, their casing a dark brown with black pattern engravings, and the other sword that hung there was in a light brown casing, the color creamy and soft. She unsheathed this one and could tell, one slice of this blade would have the enemy running. She sheathed it once again and placed it back, skimming her fingers along the mahogany curve of her father's bow. With one swift movement she snatched the bow up, tumbled forward, and with one knee on the ground and the other up, she plucked the string of the bow as if she had just shot an arrow through the wall, her arm only an inch from it. She sighed as she stood back up and put the fine weapon away, wondering if a day would come where she could stand proudly with her father, victorious on the battlefield. She stretched her arm to the back where he kept his arrows, just dying to grab one, just one... as she picked it up, the edge of the arrow caught along a cloth that sat as cushion for the shelf and pulled it down sending something falling to the ground underneath it. Afraid to do any further damage, she placed the bow and arrow back then picked up the cloth and folded it, placing it neatly where it had been. The item that was under the cloth and fell with it was a small dagger; Priya narrowed her eyes at the blade, she'd never seen it before. She gripped the handle, its dark brown wood seemed heavy but the dagger was very light. The handle had small green and gold leaf engravings, she traced a few with her fingers, it was beautiful. Slowly she began unsheathing it when she heard a shout from the front door,

"Priya! Do you not know what time it is? You're going to be late to class! Hurry!" Her mom stood at the doorway. Priya hurriedly shoved the dagger underneath the cloth and shut the doors of their cupboard, rushing to her mother.

"Here, I had a new dress stitched for you!" Her mother handed her a folded dress, "put it on now and get going!"

She quickly changed into the dress and headed out the door.

Priya shifted uncomfortably as she strode to her nursing class in the new dress (with her brown bag strapped across her chest) her mom had brought her; dark, murky green dress with frills around the neck, 3/4 sleeves with _more_ frills on the ends, and the dress draping to her feet, MORE frills at the bottom. She groaned, this dressy look was going to be the end of her; though this green was her favorite color so she could not find a reason to argue with it.  
Her mother tied her hair in a bun with an elegant white ribbon and she wore brown flat shoes, she was glad there were times in the day where she could show off her feminine side proudly and not hide herself under her cloak.

* * *

"... Now you all have a minute to cover and protect the wounds. Your basket is beside you and if you wish for my assistance or extra supplies, do not hesitate to call to me. Now... begin!" she commanded.

Priya, two 15 year Old's, a 17 year old, an 18 year old, and a 25 year old woman (only 2 years older than Priya) stood in the small tent where they practiced nursing or healing. Usually they would learn techniques but today they were allowed to treat actual patients! Well, in a way this was true... a group of seven small boys had been running around, merry-making by Snowbourn early this morning and had fallen onto the rocks that bordered the waters, skimming their knees, leaving their legs dripping red. Six returned injured and had been sent to the nurse of the village, , also their teacher; she decided to turn these boys into the women's lesson. They were given a basket of supplies they could need by the blankets the boys were laying on, each woman attending a single boy at the same time; though they were being timed to test their skills.

Priya immediately began reaching for herbs to place on the wound but there were none! She searched her basket and in fact, all that was there was bandages and cotton; where had her other materials gone? She looked to her right to see the 15 year old giving her a sly smirk holding herbs in her hand healing the wound of the dark haired boy she was treating. She had stolen her things! That was normal though, many of the rude women older (occasionally younger aging from 15-19) would tease her, or try to make her look bad because she was darker and uglier (at least according to them.) The 15 year old sneered at her as Priya's eyes wandered in search of an idea; what should she do? The small blonde, curly haired boy with the bloody scrape on his knee smiled at her,  
"use your magical powers!" He whispered.  
Many of the small children knew Priya could chant Elvish spells to heal wounds, though they didn't know it was Elvish, they found it fascinating and promised to never tell their parents about it. She had often healed their wounds to save them from being scolded by their parents or from a wound that was too bad and the materials to treat it properly were unavailable. In fact, almost all the children of the village were fond of her, they loved the stories she told, the silly jokes she'd make, her childish free, yet strong spirit; the young girls and boys overall admired her.  
She beamed and winked at him, acknowledging that her 'magical powers' were a good idea and placed a finger on her lips; he couldn't tell anybody!  
Under her breath she began saying intricate Elvish words as she held one hand above his knee, slowly the wound began disappearing!  
"Light should shine upon you in a time of need... forget money, power, and greed... heal him now and give him the strength to fight... for he will defend his fellow people throughout the night..." her spell continued on in Elvish.  
Unseen by the teacher and other women, she had caused all the boy's trouble to vanish, but just to avoid suspicion, she placed cotton on the area where he had scraped his skin and neatly wrapped a bandage around it; the small child understood.

"I am finished!" She raised her hand proudly and the young boys, Amras, sat up smiling from ear to ear, the other boys were jealous he had gotten Priya to heal him.

"I am impressed Priya!" strode over to the 15 year old next to her who had stolen Priya's herbs, she hurriedly began patching up a child's knee,  
"You seem to think quickly," the teacher leaned down with a piercing gaze against the young woman though her words were directed to Priya. She dug her hand though her basket without looking away from the 15 year old and continued talking to the dark skinned girl, "...with the little material that was available to you." lifted the patch of herbs that had been stolen.

"This treachery amongst one another will _not _be tolerated! Miriel!" She shouted at the girl, Priya couldn't help but smile that she hadn't gone unnoticed for once, glad that someone had stood up for her; though she often stood up for herself... but it felt nice to see someone else stating wrong from right.

"Miriel!" The teacher repeated the girls name, she looked terrified, "because of your unnecessary, rude, folly, you will be spending the rest of your morning treating all these boys one by one and washing and drying each and everyone of these sheets! Class dismissed!" she released the women leaving Miriel alone in the tent to wrap the boys wounds and clean the white blankets the young children had been laying on during the treatment, Miriel was to finish wrapping the wounds the other women were force to leave halfway through.

Now it was Priya's turn to smirk as she walked by Miriel, feeling good that she had been punished for treating her badly. Miriel sneered at Priya once more but she brushed it off, she wasn't going to be the one spending their morning healing and washing.

Priya left the tent with her brown bag wrapped around her and Amras by her side. They held hands as the took a few steps forward and stopped by the side of a nearby home.

"So what are you going to do now?" She kneeled down and asked the adorable boy as she removed the bandage from his leg.

"I dunno!" the young 6 year old slurred upon his words and grinned.

"Well," she lifted him up in his arms, "how about we go to the market to go see Rúmil? Then we can return to the tent to meet with all the other boys after they have been treated, is that alright with you?" She asked. After all, Rúmil was also extremely popular amongst the children for his cunning personality and his blacksmith shop.

"Yay! I wish to speak with him now! He had told me he would show me his swords today!" Amras was nearly jumping in her hands.

"Alright, alright! Off we go then!" She headed towards the market.

They said hello to many other folk of the village in the morning as they searched for Rúmil; alas they returned to the tent unlucky as their search had rendered useless.  
"Perhaps he had been forging a new weapon with his father and did not wish to be disturbed," she told Amras.  
When they had returned to the tent, the boys were just coming outside, limping and poking at their covered wounds.  
She set Amras down next to the 6 other boys, "goodbye Amras! I will be leaving now," she ruffled his hair.

"What? No! You can't! Not now!" All the kids moaned, "Please stay! Yes stay for a while!" They tugged at her dress and crowded her waist.

"Tell us a story!" One boy said.

"Yes! Yes! Please do tell us a story!" The children chanted around her.  
She laughed and hushed them, "alright, I will! But only one this time!" She giggled.

They cheered as they followed her to a nearby home where she found a stool to sit upon, the children crossed their legs and sat on the side of the poorly paved, dusty road.

"Hmm, which story would you all like to hear?" She leaned forward and asked the group.

"Tell us the one about the lost boy!"

"No! The one about the three friends!"

"Oh how about the one about the Black Knight and the princess!"

"Yes! The one about the black Knight!" All the children nodded and agreed on that story.

She smiled and quieted them down as she recalled the story she had made, "Ah yes, the story of the Black Knight and the princess!" And she began,

"Long ago... far away in the vast lands of Middle-Earth, there was a large kingdom filled with many Knights ruled by their great king, King Trethnor. Now King Trethnor was a wise and noble King, very caring and he always had the best interests for his people. He was smiling around his kingdom but when he returned to his castle, he had always seemed so downtrodden, mainly because he had been haunted by the memory of his daughter, she had disappeared many years ago after an Orc attack when she was very little, he missed her dearly and thought of her everyday. He also had the biggest most advanced army in all of Middle-Earth! Their swords were as fierce as raging stars and their shields tougher than any rock!  
They always stood clad in shining sliver armor, but among them was one who was much different than the others; a Knight in black armor! He was often put down or laughed at for his dark attire, everyone told him he was worthless, nothing but rust on the hinges of the doors to the kings castle! The black Knight had so much potential to do many good things, so he did not take these insults to heart, he simply awaited for the day where he could show everyone what he was truly capable of; and soon that day came...  
One day, king Trethnor, after much thought, and a long sorrow-filled heart, but with faith that she was still alive, announced to his knights that whoever could trek the lands of Middle-Earth and find his daughter, had his permission to marry her if they found her.  
Immediately, the Knights readied their best armor, gathered their best weapons, and saddled their horses.  
When the black Knight began saddling his horse, the other Knights laughed uncontrollably,  
"You wish to marry the princess!?"  
"Why would she want to marry you!?"  
"You are pathetic!"  
"You'll never even be able to find her!"  
They teased. He replied in a calm manner,  
"my main purpose of this journey is not because I wish to become any sort of royalty, have any of you seen the Kings face after his daughter disappeared? All I wish to do is to bring his happiness back to him."  
And with that he rode off.  
Now, many of the Knights searched in places such as Gondor, or Rohan, some even through the dangerous Fangorn Forests! Only the Black Knight had the courage to cross the boundaries of Mordor! In fact, many others knew that the possibility of the princess being held in Mordor was strong, they were all just too afraid to step into the land so they searched elsewhere.  
After a 30 day relentless journey, he arrived at Mordor, it was dark and the Black Knight often blended in with many of the rocks and such, unseen by other Orcs. He winced as he saw another Knight from the kingdom enter Mordor as well, but eaten alive for his shining armor caught the eyes of a few Orcs. The Black Knight stayed strong as he treaded through the dark place and swiftly passed many tall ashen towers and buildings.  
He came upon a tall, abandoned, tower where he caught the sound of a feminine shrill from the top, the sound pierced his ears and instinctively he raced up the tower.  
He swung his sword left and right as he fought pass the stampede of Orcs to get to the unknown female that was trapped at the top of the tower.  
Their axes pierced his skin as he ran up the long staircase to the top; whichever fair maiden was trapped up there was in need of rescuing.  
After battling at least 100 Orcs single-handedly, he reached the top room, exhausted yet eager to rescue whoever had been stuck here.  
He opened the door and the beautiful woman, grown and tall, came racing toward him, hugging him and crying.  
"I am the daughter of a king. I was brought here long ago. I have been here far too long and have much needed a savior. Will you please take me home? "She pleaded through tears.  
"Dear princess that was my intention itself, to return you to safety. I have come to save you. Take you to King Trethnor." The Knight beamed.  
Away they rode, across the never ending lands of Middle-Earth, back to King Trethnors kingdom.  
They were married immediately upon their return and..."  
Priya trailed off in thought.  
Normally, she would finish this story, but this time, the feelings behind her words felt stronger than they normally did.  
This story was in fact based upon real people, well to be exact the KNIGHT AND PRINCESS were based upon ONE real person; Priya.  
As simple as that she had put together a story of her life about a year ago from the two different sides of her, the warrior and the locked girl.  
No, she was neither a princess nor a Knight but her life was almost like the two lives she had described in the story. Therefore she was both the dark, furious fighter, and the lonely, trapped woman.  
Led astray by her thoughts, she had forgotten to complete the story.  
"Well you can't just leave us without the ending!" A child exaggerated his eagerness and threw his arms to the ground. The other children agreed in unison.  
"Alright," Priya laughed as well, snapping back into reality, which was not that different from the story.  
She opened her mouth to complete the last few sentences the children were awaiting when she heard... what was it? Almost... almost 25-30 horse hooves pounding towards the village. At their distance, they were specks among the grassy plains, but their direction was straight towards the village; they would reach here within 5 minutes at their pace.  
Priya stood up abruptly and squinted her eyes as she attempted to distinguish the men riding to them; they were not men of her village.  
Afraid for their safety, she hurriedly told the children to go away, ordering them to report immediately to their parents in their homes; promising to finish the story later.  
She raced to the border of her village along with two other men and a woman, who were also confused by the squad of horsemen; no one had EVER come to their village, let alone in such a vast number, people do not just ride to the village of criminals...

Priya and the other adults agreed to summon the others quickly to this side of the village where the wide clearing was; these folk could mean trouble...  
The four raced in different directions, shouting and calling for all to come immediately and gather in the clearing, leaving children safe at home, women may only come if they must.  
This was definitely scary for all, but exciting nonetheless, the anticipation and fear was gnawing at them, who would arrive at their village?  
Priya pushed her way through the crowd of men to the front, avoiding her father, she wouldn't miss this.  
Her father was in the very front of the crowd along with Aegnor, Priya stood to the side, hidden from their view.  
The hooves rode closer and closer... they finally came into the village, the men were shoved backwards as the horses and their riders came to a halt in the middle of the crowd.  
She stared at the men in awe, beautifully clad in armor, helmet and swords, oh they looked wonderful! She only hoped that these men were here in good intent.

"VILLAGERS OF ARTANIS LISSËSÚL!"  
Said the one who had been leading the men as he jumped down from his horse. He was the epitome of flawless...  
His clothing was different, and unlike any other she had seen, his hair was long and blonde and his bows strapped to his side were the finest she had ever seen.  
He did not wear armor, but you could tell by his posture, his stance, and the fire in his eyes, he was definitely a soldier.

"We come here with terrible news..." said another one of the leading men.  
He too, did not wear armor, but the way he carried himself, his dark brown hair to his shoulders and sword at side, he was MORE than a soldier...  
There was more than fire in his eyes, there was rage... and so much pain... and vengeance.

Priya paid sharp attention to them, why would such people come to tell them news?  
She was told to leave by one man but ignored, how could she leave now?

"YOU ARE ALL IN GRAVE DANGER!" said the blonde sharply, "YOU MUST GET YOUR WOMEN AND CHILDREN TO SAFETY IMMEDIATELY! WE ARE HERE TO HELP YOU!"

"HELP!?"  
Priya winced, it was her father who had stepped forward to the blonde and asked, "why would we need your help!?"

The blondes eyes raced to the brown haired man in worry, he looked back at her father with that same worry, "Because in mere minutes, your village will be UNDER ATTACK!"

* * *

**Song(s): **

**[Unwritten] **

**Natasha Beddingfield- Priya **

** [Breakaway] **

**Kelly Clarkson- Priya**

* * *

** A/N: ...ehhhh? Okay? Terrible? Please please please give me some feedback! So I've put a whole lot of thought into this story and I really hope it'll pay off, and I know she may come across as a Mary Sue but she has a lot of potential so give her a chance ay? Oh and I'm going to try something called a "Story soundtrack" where for each chapter or for the story as a whole I find a song that fits really well because I am an avid music listener and I love the way some songs work with stories and movies and stuff so that's what that is; and I'm not saying all the songs that are part of it are ones I really like, the lyrics just fit ya know? Oh and if you know a song that fits well too, leave it in a review and I'll update it in the chapter. That's all I have to say until next time so thank you for even clicking on this story, that means the world, please go check out the poll on my profile about my other LOTR story! I LOVE YOU! PLEASE REVIEW DOWN THERE!**

**Read. Review. Favor ****_Enjoy._**


	3. What was lost

**A/N: My chapters were supposed to be much longer but due to the lack of enthusiastic readers of lengthy work i am cutting them all in half :( no matter! They're just going to be shorter and hopefully faster! **

**Read. Review. Favor. ****_Enjoy._**

**_Chapter 2: What was lost...  
_**

* * *

_The grief that fills me, is more than any man can see ,_

_ Though it hurts to try, it hurts even more to try and not succeed,_

_This pain will not go and this burden will not flee,_

_His death will remain on my shoulders for all of eternity..._

_.:24 hours earlier:._

Aragorn quickly caught up to Legolas, the Elf was being extremely stubborn at the moment.

"Le..._Legolas_!" he called after him through the sunlit hallway, slightly out of breath. Aragorn took a few more steps and finally rested his hand on the blondes' shoulder.

"_Aragorn_!" he said through his teeth angrily, "I do not wish to be spoken with nor do I wish to speak with anyone,_ leave me alone_!" Legolas threw his hand off vigorously and stormed down the hallway, leaving Aragorn alone in the silence.  
The elf had not at all been himself today, but who could blame him?  
Though they had all been scarred by this battle, he seemed to have been effected the most by the casualties...

He sighed, Legolas hadn't been the only one this morning feeling yesterday's events surreal and wishing they had never happened...Aragorn shuddered while memories flashed by feeling ever so distant, he paced to the window and as he stared down, he realized that those memories were in fact very recent.

Helm's Deep was in ruins, as were the many injured in the battle.  
The morning after the battle at Helms Deep was won was a bright, yet dark day... so many wounded and many dead as well.  
Everyone had fought bravely yesterday especially...  
Aragorn cringed as he saw pictures of Haldir fly before his eyes from yesterday.  
He stumbled slightly and placed his back against the wall, turning away from the window and closed his eyes breathing heavily.  
His death was hard on all of them... him and Legolas especially.  
Aragorn opened his eyes wide, the past was the past, there was death now and there was no doubt there would be death once again...very soon.  
He clenched his jaw and fists, fire blazing in his blue eyes, he was alive, he could help, he was needed now.  
He ran through the hallway, returning to the Throne Room, determination banging in his mind as reminded himself: he was ALIVE.

* * *

Legolas stormed into his room and slammed his door shut, rattling the walls around him.

How could anyone even think that after such a battle Legolas could go on acting as if it hadn't happened? Sure, he was supposed to expect such things to occur but... he didn't know why this had hurt him so badly but... they did...  
Far too vivid images came hurling towards his mind...  
_'Shoot him Legolas! Shoot him down!'_  
Legolas' cunning eyes and aim were perfect as he plucked his bow and sent the arrows flying through the air...they were...perfect... but they just weren't enough...  
_And then it fell._  
_It exploded._  
_It shattered into pieces._  
_And it was all his fault._  
Bodies of Elves and Men splashed about as the wall collapsed before his eyes again.  
Legolas sat on his bed hesitantly as he recalled how painful that night was to both his body and his mind.  
He shook his head, this was PAIN he was feeling right now... not anger, he shouldn't have been so harsh with Aragorn...  
But then... then he _remembered._.. he cursed under his breath... he remembered that one Orc... the one who ran with the torch... the one he couldn't shoot down... the one who...  
Legolas closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, exhaling very slowly.  
He then laid down on his bed, eyes still closed, and drowned himself in regretful thoughts.  
The pain of so many Elven and men soldiers dead was unbearable, and for some reason... he felt like it was all his fault...  
'_If only I had aimed better... if only I had used more arrows... if only I had been more precise... if only I had been quicker... if only I...'_ and he drifted into sleep.

* * *

A quiet knock awoke the elf from his easily disturbed slumber.  
"Legolas," a soft, unmistakable voice said, "you are being summoned to the Throne Room in 5 minutes, please hurry, King Théoden wishes to speak with us all immediately, he has news." Aragorn said and left.  
Legolas yawned and stood up, last night he had been too anxiety filled to sleep; this evening nap had helped... though the wounds in his heart were still as fresh as ever.  
He quickly straightened his attire for the king and headed out his door, his light footsteps echoing in the hallway. He glanced out the window to see the last shades of pink in the sky slowly fading to purple as the sun set and the moon rose; refusing to look down at the destruction.

He soon approached the Throne Room where Gimili and Aragorn were discussing something in the corner and King Théoden and Gandalf sat by his throne and whispered quietly.

"Ahem," Théoden cleared his throat as a signal for the three to step forward to him in front of his seat, acknowledging Legolas' arrival.  
Legolas looked sharply at Aragorn and Aragorn at him, they now shared the fire in their eyes, Legolas was eager to know what he could do to help.

Théoden took in a shaky breath, wondering how exactly to begin his sentence.  
"Warriors..." he croaked, "Yes... that is what you all performed like yesterday: _warriors._" He paused briefly as he stood up and began pacing in front of his throne.  
"Many have died in the battle, too many if I may say..." he blinked and shuddered, "they will have a proper burial before we leave, if we have enough time... but that is only if time is on our side, which I am beginning to doubt. We must get the people in the Deep back to Edoras as soon as possible, but... there is a problem..." he sighed heavily and glanced at Gandalf before continuing, "I sent out a scout a few days ago, to patrol Edoras, see if it was left unharmed. My scout returned today with..._ unsettling news.._."

Legolas' ears perked up and his eyes narrowed, Gimili huffed and folded his arms, '_As if we needed more depressing news!'_

"Unfortunately, not all the Orcs that fought at Helms Deep either died or returned to Sauran. There was a pack of about 100 Orcs that fled to Edoras, a few nights ago, some fought in the battle and some didn't even go... this is what the scout had heard from the little English they spoke. They are currently camping in the city of Edoras without food, true, these foul beasts can last long without it but the packs hunger is growing quickly. My scout camped the night in the shadows there and listened to everything they had to say, they are planning to attack..."

Aragorn straightened up at the Kings words, _'Attack? How much damage could a pack like that do? And where?'_ Sweat began beading his forehead as he eagerly awaited an answer.

"No, they do not possess the right amount of weaponry or strength to counter attack Helms Deep, instead they are attacking on a place that is much more frail and vulnerable..."

Gandalf arose at his words, "you do not mean-"

"Yes. I do..." he sighed and continued, "there is a small village, 40 leagues north of Edoras known as Artanis Lissësúl. As you may know, it is known as the town of thieves, or village of criminals. True, the people of the village were once bad, ONCE. But many of them were once men of Rohan, and Gondor as well. I had gone out to meet them a few years ago, a daring journey it was, but I went to see the leader of the village, they are fine folk now." He looked at the three with a focused gaze, "These are kind, peaceful, and innocent people, they do not even possess over 20 iron swords. I feel it is only our responsibility to aid them."

"So what they don't have swords!? _Isn't that a good thing_!? The lousy criminals and black souls! What if they try to kill us when we get there?" Gimili stepped forward.

"Would you threaten the lives of the ones... who would come to you in a time of need?" King Theoden countered.

Gimili nodded in agreement, Aragorn's gaze was fixed on the King, and Legolas' mind was disturbed and sorting hundreds of thoughts.  
Théoden added, "I wish for you all to take a small fleet of the unwounded soldiers and slay the Orcs once and for all. Horseback, the ride will only take you until high noon if you start early enough in the morning, for the road is not long but 100 Orcs armored with weapons may be a tough fight. I expect you to go, kill all the Orcs, then return to the Deep with very little casualties, if the people of the village offer to help, do not refuse, you will need as much help as you can get." The three absently shook their heads, "But I will not be joining you, so I must appoint a leader of this mission. Who would like to lead?"

"I would." Legolas stepped forward in a heartbeat, "I would like to be leader of this mission..."

"But Legolas, you are already weak as is, I can lead this fleet if you wish?" Aragorn bent forward slightly to peer at his face.

"_A fight is a fight_. Whether I am leader or not has nothing to do with my recovery from the previous battle. No, I wish to take this mission under my command if King Theoden should allow me to do so," he said sternly, that fire in his blue-grey eyes now blazing.

"Very well," Théoden acknowledged, Aragorn gaped in protest as if still wanting to say something, "I shall appoint Legolas as the leader of the mission and fleet. He will command you all tomorrow at daybreak. I expect this attack to be simple for warriors such as yourselves." The King nodded, "Dinner should be in about an hour. That is all."

One by one, the three turned around and left, with the guards closing the door behind leaving Gandalf in the room with the King.

They paced down the hallway together in a line, a steady and even beat as they walked to their chambers.

"So laddie! You want to take on the challenge of leading ay?" Gimili beamed.

"It is not so much a challenge for me, I can complete this task and I will." He said confidently.

"You seem to be very confident Legolas, this is a new trait you have shown, but you cannot always be so sure of yourself my friend. Overconfidence is the downfall of many..." Aragorn patted his shoulder as the elf walked by his side.

"Do you doubt me?" The Elf gazed sharply at the Ranger.

"Never," He smiled at him. Legolas kept a straight face, he didn't care who the people of... what was the village name...? It didn't matter, he didn't care who they were, but he wasn't going to let those foul creatures take any more innocent lives... determination was on his mind...

* * *

Legolas slowly paced the hallway in front of his room. The moon was already high in the sky and half of the Deep was most likely sleeping by now.  
How could he sleep?  
He thought of the soldiers again, the wall, _Haldir_... he attempted to blink them away but could not.  
He jumped as someone came from behind and touched his shoulder.

"You should be asleep." The Ranger said in a low voice.

"And I could say the same to you." Legolas replied.

"Now tell me really, why did you take up the position? ...Of being commander?" Aragorn asked.

"Because I am prepared to face whatever comes to me, I am prepared to fight until every last Orc in this war is _stone cold dead_."

"Then I will fight alongside you my friend, I do not oppose. But being a commander is a tough job, especially after recovering from the deaths of-"

"Aragorn, I know very well who has died and I am coping just fine, I am not a child. The deaths of Haldir and Boromir were painful to us because their deaths were sudden, in battle, and due to Orcs... I wish to avenge my friends and not you or anyone else can make me turn down this position." He stated.

"Very well then..." Aragorn sighed, "I will be off. Get some rest Legolas, you will need it for the village tomorrow..." Aragorn began walking away.

"Aragorn!" He called after him, "what was the name of the village again?"

Aragorn thought for a moment, "...Artanis Lissësúl" he said and continued walking.

"Artanis Lissësúl..." Legolas muttered to himself, "but that is..." he shook his head, "...those words are of Elvish decent..."

* * *

The next morning arrived quickly and the 18 men that could come were hurriedly making preparations in the stables for the fight that was to ensue in mere hours.  
Aragorn and Gimili came shortly after, readying their horses and weapons but Legolas was nowhere to be seen.  
He had been in a particularly righteous mood when he awoke, an eagerness to kill those Orcs as quick as possible.

* * *

"...and what of the dead bodies?"

"That... I do not know. Depending on the number of casualties, you may do as you choose, you are commander of this mission," he sighed at the elf, "now you remember the route?"

"Yes I definitely do. Thank you King Théoden, we will return by or before nightfall," he smiled and trotted off towards his horse in the stable.

"Do be careful! Artanis Lissësúl will bring you more surprises than you expect!" The King called after him.

* * *

The horses had their saddles on and 20 masters (including Aragorn and Gimili, the dwarf was waiting on the ground for Legolas) were ready and waiting for their leader.

He arrived a few minutes later, his bow and arrows, swords and daggers, all ready for battle.

Legolas stepped back in shock after entering the stables, all of his fleet were already there, "You are all ready then?" He smirked as he jumped up onto his horse, Gimili followed, "THEN LET US RIDE OUT TOGETHER!" he shouted and raced off, the others riding behind.

After almost 3 hours of riding, Legolas saw a small speck in the distance, he turned his head right as he rode further seeing a larger body on the ground not far away from the speck, and was sure that what he was looking at was in fact the mysterious village of Artanis Lissësúl.

Legolas gulped in a deep breath and charged full speed, the sun now high in the sky and beating on the top of his head.

"My my Master Elf! You seem to be in a hurry to get to this village!" The dwarf said from behind him.

The Elf smiled slightly but didn't respond, he was the leader of this mission, for the first time in a long time, he was given command; he was not going to pass this opportunity so easily. He realized though, he should be more afraid then he was, what if the people of the village were hasty against him and his company? What if they tried to kill them rather than acknowledge their help like Gimili said?

As he approached 'Artanis Lissësúl' he saw a crowd gathering in the direction of which he and the riders were heading, he decided to stop and enter a clearing they had made for him.  
The Orcs were going to be here soon, this was going to be difficult for him and the villagers, he put a serious face on; these strangers should not be taken lightly.

"VILLAGERS OF ARTANIS LISSËSÚL!" he yelled as he got down from his horse to draw attention, Aragorn and the company halting their horses as well. He scanned the faces of the villagers, they seemed like decent people, not criminals... but if this village is what they say it is, he should take more precautions.  
He kept his back erect and his eyes sharp and keen, watching every movement in the crowd.

"We come to you with terrible news..." Aragorn said with a grave look from behind him as he too jumped off his horse.

"YOU ARE ALL IN GRAVE DANGER! YOU MUST GET YOUR WOMEN AND CHILDREN TO SAFETY IMMEDIATELY! WE ARE HERE TO HELP YOU!" Legolas said in his loudest and strongest voice to be heard.

"HELP?" he saw a man emerge from the crowd. His brown hair fading to silver and the wrinkles on his face growing deeper; he was old but tough.  
"Why would we need your help!?" He huffed.

Legolas looked back at Aragorn with worry, they had no clue of what was coming, "Because in mere minutes your village will be UNDER ATTACK!" Legolas explained.

He sighed, this was going to be difficult...

* * *

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